A Mixture of Madness
by RenaRoo
Summary: The Riddler has always been prideful in how he challenges the world's greatest detective himself. No one else can compare, after all. At least... they shouldn't...


anonymous prompted: Riddler having a Cass-centered breakdown as he realizes that the type of intelligence he values is not the only or most important type of intelligence.

I was so excited about this prompt at first and now I'm nervous that I didn't pull it off at all : ( I'm sorry, Anon. I tried my hardest and I hope you still enjoy it!

Batman and related properties © DC Comics  
story © RenaRoo

 **A Mixture of Madness**

"I have to admit, I didn't expect much in the beginning from a little girl playing dress up, but you've absolutely _stunned_ me with your inabilities. You can't even give me the _first clue!"_ he coos into the microphone. "You might have the symbol, the punches, and the _pizazz,_ but one thing you are _not_ is the Great Detective!"

The Riddler grins, ear to ear, as he watches the monitor.

The maze is complex and intricate. He sent countless hours - hundreds of thousands of dollars (stolen, of course) - making his ultimate Bat Trap.

At first he was unhappy that the first Caped Crusader on his trail was not Batman, but the silent shadow of a Batgirl he had yet to encounter, but he has soon learned to appreciate testing out his equipment on her.

She has not provided even a single clue or insight, narrowly dodging traps with admittedly grand speed and finesse as they came but never reading the proverbial writing on the walls that would have warned her to begin with.

Batgirl barrels through his trap with the recklessness of a cat thrown in water. And Eddie is _certain i_ t will get her killed soon enough.

He's hardly sitting on the edge of his seat when he twirls the microphone's cord around his finger, smirking as Batgirl stares up at one of his access cameras.

"Riddle me this, _Batgirl!_ What is the difference between a dilapidated house and _you?"_ he grins as she cocks her head to the side and takes a breath, saying nothing. "The house has less of a chance of _failing!"_

During his hackle, the Riddler opens his eye just enough to see his prey's reaction… only to find her no longer there.

"The hell?" he asks, leaning forward immediately and looking through the camera feeds again.

Suddenly, the lights flicker. His monitors turn off.

Eddie raises to his feet and immediately begins hitting the equipment. Nothing responds. He hits harder.

"What the hell -"

Before he can finish, the door to his command center breaks down, the haunting silhouette of a Bat entering taking Eddie's attention. She kicks with a massive force behind her and the Riddler's unbeatable trap goes to waste on the wrong subject before his very eyes.

* * *

"Watch out, Eddie! I hear _Batchick_ is in town!"

"Riddles don't get you far with the silent treatment, huh?"

Edward Nigma stands before his whiteboard in Arkham Asymlum, ignoring the fools who try to consider themselves his peers. He can't wait to thwart them all.

That condescension and disbelief is beyond aggravating, but he won't deal with them for much longer. He has already devised any number of escape plans.

But he will only leave Arkham once he has chosen how to prove himself against that _Batgirl._

"It was a fluke," he decides as he begins to draw out the next step of his plans. "The only one who can hope to _attempt_ to be a challenger for _me_ is Batman himself. The so-called great detective! And no child in a Halloween costume will get the best of me twice."

He memorizes the diagram and then quickly erases with his sleeve. Begins the next.

"Once I am rid of Batgirl, I'll show Batman." He narrows his eyes. "No one is better than me. _No one._ I am a genius. Unparalleled! I cannot be stopped. No one can touch me!"

Except Batgirl. But, as his plans would make sure, that would not be the case for long.

* * *

Before he had escaped Arkham - child's play, really, one of his least elaborate plans yet but he had a schedule and couldn't make room for finesse - he had gone through the regular pipelines and messages to ensure he had a manageable base and plenty of supplies to come to. The Broker and the Penguin had been happy to supply all for a pretty penny and, in the case of the latter, a debt of heist plans in the future.

When he enters the supposed abandoned building, he can already smell the oil and rust of his requested supplies waiting on him. It is bliss, preparing for work after months of careful deliberation between himself and his cell's wall.

He reaches for the light but finds that turning it on oddly synchronizes with the drop kick Batgirl gives from the ceiling.

She sits on him like a cat that has pounced on its prey.

Eddie is so stunned he doesn't know what to say. Or, at least, for an _instant_ he doesn't.

"Impossible! Unhand me! Where did you come from? How did you know! You have no proof that anything has happened. _None!_ What assurances do you have that I am guilty of anything? _Arkham shouldn't even know I have left yet!"_

Reaching into her belt, Batgirl produces handcuffs and secures Eddie to the nearest support beam.

"How dare you interrupt my work! You idiot! Do you have any idea what loops I jumped through? What _money I paid_ for any of this? Do you?" He's feeling hysterical. Yanking and pulling at the cuffs, flailing as he kicks the support beam.

Batgirl stares at him for a moment, standing above him with her blank eyes and face.

"You're making me a laughing stock!" Eddie snarls.

The crime fighter slowly lowers down, sitting a few feet away from the Riddler. She says nothing, which is fine because Eddie is good at filling that void of silence with cutting insults and fury.

She doesn't leave until the police sirens can be heard.

* * *

It's been four nights straight. Eddie Nigma - _Edward Nashton_ \- lays on his back, starring at the ceiling of his Arkham cell in complete despair. There is no sleep. His whiteboard is taken away, carted off for bad behavior.

There is rage in the pit of his stomach at conflict with the utter numbness of his limbs.

The laughter and disappointment of his "peers" in this godforsaken asylum are a muted blur in the background, nowhere close to horrific pounding in his head. The childhood echoes of _cheat_ and _liar_ screaming at the top of his lungs.

Batgirl is a cheater. A liar. _Somehow._ In _some way._

But he can't figure out why. And his mind cruelly discredits _because you're a cheater, a liar, an idiot, Eddie!_ Which makes him want to scream.

He doesn't. He does nothing.

When time melts into the fifth night, he accepts a therapist's crossword book. He solves them all and sleeps for an hour.

He starts the second book.

* * *

When a fitful night's rest is interrupted by the prickling feeling of being watched, Eddie presumes it to be another inmate. _Not_ the terror haunting his current nightmares.

But it is her. Batgirl stares at him with her black eyes and blank mask, holding up a file.

He gapes at her, incapable of speaking until she throws the folder onto his lap.

"Need your opinion," she says in a strangely practiced manner.

Still not fully comprehending, Eddie numbly opens the file. It's a case file. A current one. With photographs and police notes. A murder case. And it's all full of holes that need to be filled with the sense of a detective.

 _"If you're such a dynamite crime fighter, why don't you figure it out yourself?"_ he roars, flipping the file over and sending its individual pieces flying across his room.

Batgirl turns her head just slightly, as if she's clueless as to why he is refusing her simple request.

"My mind is the greatest criminal mind that has ever existed!" he roars, raising from his bed. "It can't be touched by the likes of _anyone in this city or beyond!_ And you wish for me to _sell my intellect_ to you for good graces?"

"No," Batgirl says softly. "Don't need it."

Eddie releases a long, bitter laughter. His eyes narrow even as he slicks back his hair with his free hand. His teeth audibly grind.

"You must think you're smarter than me if you think you can capture me with no difficulties. Is that what this is? _You think I'm a dullard compared to you?"_

Batgirl shifts, leaning in closer from her perch on his window sill. "No. Just know… _different_ things."

"Better things?" he returns snidely.

"Sometimes."

Riddler's jaw drops, his hackles raising, before _the snap._

"Get. _Out!"_ he growls.

Batgirl does not move.

"Get out. Get _out._ Get _OUT!"_ Eddie demands. "I have intellect you can't even comprehend. I have the sharpness of an Arabian saber. I am the greatest mind this world has ever seen and _it is the only thing I have!_ Get out of my cell. Get out of this ward. I will not help you. I will not do anything but gladly be responsible for _taking the rug from beneath your feet!"_

She hesitates before shaking her head, almost disappointed. "You're… not bad. Not really, " she says solemnly. "Shame you waste… all that. On what everyone already… _knows."_

When she drops out of sight, the Riddler returns to grabbing at his hair and trashing the file presented to him.

He doesn't need the world to _know._ He needs them to _respect_ what he is.

He needs his father to respect what he never could accept.

And that is never going to happen.


End file.
